


Get Out of Your Head

by MaskedMildew



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, also you can kinda see the relationship here as reaper76 but i left it up to you to decide, im writing too much happy stuff, is that the ship name??, need to make it sad, or you could see the relationship as rein76, whatever i like them both and it's not really that impactful ANYWAYS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-10 06:52:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10431624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaskedMildew/pseuds/MaskedMildew
Summary: 76 found that one Talon agent-- Reaper-- to be reminiscent of an old friend.He gets caught-up in his head about it, and he knows he'll have to find someone trustworthy to talk to about the situation.





	

Something about that stereotypically-antagonistic Talon agent was... _off._  

And not just because he seemed to insist on wearing full-black clothing, and a mask, no matter how hot it was.

Sure, Soldier: 76 didn't quite have time to really study the terrorist's actions, but in the few moments of time where they'd been head-to-head, 76 was sure that _something **familiar**_ lingered in the enemy's aura. It certainly was not a good feeling.

It was like sad nostalgia, only the greying vigilante had no idea why he'd felt that way.

So, later that night, he simply grabbed his plate from the mess hall, vegetables and rice and pork already on it, before he retired to his room. He made sure to ignore the concerned questions from the other heroes.

* * *

Soldier knew it wasn't a good idea to hole himself up in his quarters- especially if he was just going to sit in the dark. His plate of food had been abandoned when he stepped into the scarcely-furnished room, he didn't have the appetite for it.

His hands went up to his visor, the gloves pressing into the latches on either side to undo it. With a small 'click', he pulled it off, and laid it on the bed beside him.

Good thing it was dark- the soldier wouldn't have to remind himself of his worsening unaided eyesight.

Tiredly, he pulled off his gloves and signature jacket. They were all tossed carelessly to the ground. He was normally much more neat, but right now, a pang in his chest kept him from giving a damn.

His worn, calloused hands went up to his face. Fingers traced his scars, the bit of stubble- god, he was getting old. 

The feeling was grounding, however.

It reminded 76 that he was still 76. For a second, he felt that if he'd looked into a mirror, he'd see a dead man with blonde hair and a smooth face.

His fingers rest over his eyes. He just had to think for a bit, without any distractions.

His mind was telling him not to think about what... or **_who_** 'Reaper' reminded 76 of. It was so stupid- even after so many years, so many hardships and things he'd come to accept, he couldn't accept that maybe-

No.

_It was impossible._

If Jack Morrison died back then in Switzerland, Gabe-...no, _Reyes,_ did as well.

For a long moment, 76 did nothing but sit. His mind was fuzz, he couldn't think of anything without his nose stinging from the threat of oncoming tears. From the images of an old friend relaying through his mind.

He had to accept it, dammit.

The older man squeezed his head, fingers digging into his temples.

Accept _what?_

Accept that Gabe was dead?

Accept that gabe **wasn't** dead?

_Accept that he failed?_

...

Accept that he was Jack Morrison?

 

76 knew he couldn't get himself down like this- or it would keep haunting him. The ghost of his past, the ghost of that friend he loved and cared for through thick and thin.

He needed to speak to someone, but telling anyone any part of this could compromise the thought that **Jack** was dead.

The worn-out soldier sighed into his hands. He could feel his cheeks were raw from how much he'd rubbed the tears away using the heel of his palm.

He sat back, propped-up on one arm. _Breathe in, breathe out._

_Jack_ decided he was going to speak to someone.

* * *

 By now, some of the other heroes had left to their rooms. Others, namely D.Va and Lúcio, were hanging out in the commons room. Genji was most likely meditating with his master, Hanzo probably brooding on some roof, like a crow with scales.

The old soldier grinned at that, under his visor. The thought brought back old memories of that blonde-haired Strike-Commander, who always seemed to wedge into Gabriel's space. Gabe never minded it, he'd even grin sometimes when Jack called him a 'brooding crow'.

Ah, there it was again... the dull ache.

76 was becoming sentimental, he deduced, in his old years.

The hallways were pretty quiet, not that they were ever too hectic, but Soldier: 76 was more alert. More aware of the familiar surroundings.

Especially the slightly-worn tiles leading-up to Reinhardt's room.

  _Just like the old days_

He mused to himself. The ache grew, and he stopped in front of the door. Little dents were around bits of the frame- Soldier could almost recount how all of them were made. Most were from Reinhardt carelessly bumping his head on the entrance, whether drunk or simply unaware of what was around him. Other times were when D.Va, Tracer and McCree all wanted to try and swing Rein's hammer... or at least try to hold it.

76 smiled. In a way, Reinhardt reminded Jack much of... Thor. That god from Norse mythos, right?

And finally, the last memory Jack could recall, was when Reinhardt had drank too much.

Normally, he was a jovial drunk just as he was a jovial guy. But it was the anniversary of when Overwatch had first fallen. The tall German had been able to easily hide his unease for the most part, until 76 found him crying at the little bar that night. There was a picture grasped tightly in the elder's hands.

For how loud he normally was, seeing Reinhardt cry quietly was almost unsettling. It was easy for 76 to realize Reinhardt was being quiet because he didn't want to worry anyone.

The picture he held in his large hand was a crudely-drawn portrait of Jack, Gabe, Ana, Rein, Fareeha and someone else, who was covered by the older man's thumb.

Back then, Soldier: 76 had simply walked right back out, suppressing the need to say something. He kept his mouth shut and ignorant even when Reinhardt, as stealthy and forlorn as could be, walked to his room. 

Before the large man could disappear into the doorway, he'd stopped, a hand gripping at the side of the doorframe. He squeezed, until the wood splintered and the metal bent. 76, watching inconspicuously from the end of the hall, wouldn't have been surprised if the whole Watchpoint crumbled under the unbearable scene that was; _Reinhardt being sad_.

And now, when Jack stood in front of the door, he felt his rough fingers dig into the short sleeves of his black tank-top. 

_Breathe in, breathe out._

Now or never.

The door opened almost instantly after the first knock on the door, leaving Soldier staring and his fist up.

Reinhardt was smiling widely, and was able to quickly ease away the awkward silence.

   "Oh, 76, a joy! I have not spoken to you in awhile, no?" the younger of the two had a few ideas as to why. One being;

_Jack was friends with you, but 76 is not_.

He decided to try and focus on the happy, elderly man before him, instead. "We've never had much reason to speak with one another." the soldier was aware of how tired his voice sounded, and Reinhardt seemed to be, as well. "Mind if I step in?"

The large German straightened his back, and nodded, moving to the side. "Of course! How cruel would I be to not? Please, take a seat anywhere. I can stand!"

76 waved his hand dismissively. He did feel as if a chair might help him get rid of the slow burn in his head, but he decided not to take it. For now.

Stepping easily into the opposite corner of the room, Jack turned for his body to face Reinhardt, but his head was hung. Like a guilty dog. 76 could feel the confusion wash over the old knight, and he decided to get as straight-to-the-point as he could.

   "I- what-" 

This was not easy.

   "Who am I, to you?" he asked, trying his hardest not to mutter. 

The older man seemed taken aback- he'd probably assumed 76 had some news on a new mission or just wanted to chat. Whatever this was... well, 76 didn't quite think it through either.

   "E-excuse me?" Rein sputtered, his smile replaced by a confused, almost concerned frown. "Where did this come from?"

   "Answer my question."

   "Answer mine **_first_** , 76!"

The soldier's eyes widened behind his visor, and he gave the large man his full attention. Reinhardt was certainly concerned, and... frustrated? _upset?_

76 caught a wet shine in the knight's eye. It unsettled him- it felt like Rein knew something 76 didn't want him to, yet.

Deciding to indulge the other man, the old, tired Soldier: 76 decided to answer. (Albeit, mysteriously)

    "You're a well-respected man, Wilhelm. We've been through plenty together," purposely vague, "I want to know what you think of me."

There was silence for a few moments. Unnatural in Reinhardt's presence, but Jack didn't show his growing discomfort.

Soom, the large hero shuffled to the small window of his room, glancing out of it before turning towards 76. He let out a sigh, thinking of what to say.

In a gentle, rumbling tone, the elder spoke. "A natural-born leader." a hot rush ran over Jack's face, and then it went cold. Perhaps Reinhardt did know something- or 76 was just being paranoid. Continuing, the German physically urged himself to stand straighter, to perk up. "For a lone vigilante, you certainly thrived in the team. You had strategies from the beginning, friend. At first, these new heroes around you were uncertain. It took no time at all for them to warm-up to you," Reinhardt brushed a tear from his cheek with his thumb, and then, a smile.

   "You completed the family, in a way. _'Team Dad'_ they'd call you!" a good-natured chuckle rumbled from Rein's throat, though quieter than normal. "So, I think of you as..."  another bit of silence.

And then another. Reinhardt seemed to lapse back into thoughts that troubled him.

   "... Who is Soldier: 76? Why the name?" he questioned, forgetting the topic from before.

The younger man in question decided that now was the time. Reinhardt was obviously suspicious of who 76 really was- might as well ease his old friend's mind.

Calloused fingers traveled up to the old soldier's face, and he unlatched his visor. This time, there was no darkness to keep Jack from reminding himself of his failing eyesight.

Reinhardt didn't move, but 76 could tell his theories were being confirmed.

   "I think..." the soldier let out a gruff _'heh'_ , "76 is a perfectly good number. Why not? Couldn't be something as silly as Soldier: #1, now could I?" he grinned weakly, bowed head gazing into his discarded visor. "Strike-Commander: 76." he muttered. At the moment, 76 felt like he was that long-dead man, making little jokes even in serious situations.

The german before him sat down on the bed, it creaked under his weight. Reinhardt kept a long gaze on Soldier: 76. His eyes were wide, brows distraught. He had to take it all in, Jack thought, even if he had expected the answer.

   "I was Jack Morrison. Strike-Commander of Overwatch, part of SEP, your old friend... certified dead man." his grin turned into a frown, and he sighed, looking to Reinhardt.

After a brief pause, he decided to cut to the chase. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. You didn't deserve that, but right now, something's weighing on me," he tapped his foot, letting out a breath to calm himself, before leaning back against the wall.

   "Do you think Gabriel really... died, back then?"

Now, Reinhardt was able to speak up. His voice was choked, and Jack had neglected to see all of the tears streaming down his face and into his beard. "No. The both of you cannot-" he cleared his throat, trying to maintain a tough composure. "The two of you couldn't have both survived. I-I had been at your funerals, 76- ... _Jack._ Jack, I'd spoken on both of your behalves, I lowered what we thought were your remains into the ground!" now, he had a bite to his voice.

The knight's head was downcast, like an old dog cast-out into the rain. He seemed more upset at himself, at the situation, than 76. "Gabriel... no, it was a..." there was a gruff mutter in german, and a heavy sigh.

Memories from just before the bombs went off flashed through Jack's mind, and he crossed his arms, squeezing tight. 

   "I can..." the former Strike-Commander was surprised to find that his voice was strained. he cleared his throat, "I will speak to you more, in the morning. This is a lot to take in, I know-" before Jack could finish the quip, he was pulled into a tight hug. 

How such a large man could move without being noticed immediately, who knew?

   "Jack, this is hard on you too, no?" Reinhardt sniffed, and put 76 down. 

Admittedly, the familiar bear hug felt nice. Jack was just barely keeping it together.

He looked up towards Reinhardt, visor clicking back on quickly. 

   "Get some rest," the large man cleared his throat, before his voice rose back to it's proud loudness. "And we can settle this tomorrow!"

Jack regarded the older man with a silent, invisible smile, before he gave a weak punch to Rein's shoulder, and walked to the doorway. The door slid open, and the Strike-Commander paused.

   "Old soldiers die hard, Reinhardt."


End file.
